


The Weathermen

by elwinglyre



Category: Brokeback Mountain (2005)
Genre: F/M, Farce, Flying Spaghetti Monster, I, Insane superhero parody, M/M, Pastafarianism, Tentacles, au/au, did, this?, why, write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 18:13:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10496724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elwinglyre/pseuds/elwinglyre
Summary: Unbeta'd all mistakes are mine! (and some are pretty darn funny)Drabble series all here. A humorous tale of two TV meteorologists (au/au with Jack and Ennis) and a cosmic occurrence that changes their lives forever when they become super heroes. This is a bawdy parody on the Brokeback Mountain fandom.





	

I'd spent most of my college years learning about who I was. I'd spent my childhood learning what I wasn't. It wasn't until August 23, 2008 when I worked as an intern meteorologist at Channel Six that I understood why I was put here.

I was a grunt, a go-fer, one of those nondescript interns who gets coffee. I was really a meteorologist, at least that's what my diploma from Western said. I took this job as a way inside. It was never in me to be Mr. On-Camera-Weatherman. That's not what I wanted. Behind the scenes, that was me. 

The Channel six newsroom buzzed that particular night. I walked in with a tray of Starbuck's coffee. The camera crew was ready. Everyone waited to see how the new meteorologist would do behind bright lights. I'd been so busy I never got a good look at the new guy. From what I saw, he was one of the typical pretty boys: dark hair, blues eyes, handsome, chiseled features. Almost a photocopy of his predecessor, Stuart Johnson. This man's name had more panache: Jonathon Twist or Jack Twist, as he'd asked to be called. 

"You should get along with this character, Del Mar," Cal smirked. "He wrote his religion down on the application as Pastafarian."

"He's not my type," I said, but as Twist turned around to clip on his mic I knew he was.

"Can't fool me," Cal said. "I know that look."

"Pastafarian, you say?"

"Yeah, 'may he reach out and touch you with his tasty tentacles'," Cal laughed, then socked me in the shoulder. "Here he comes. I'll introduce you."

My hands started to sweat around my Starbucks. I took the initiative as Twist stepped in front me and spilled my coffee on his shoes. 

"Ah, meteorologist Ernest, er- Ennis, DelMar."

He raised his eyebrow at me, looked down at his feet then laughed.

"Nice to meet you-- Ennis."

One touch. That was all it took. One touch. 

"So, you belong to the [Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster](http://www.venganza.org/) too?" I blurted out.

I was different. My parents told me that. I accepted my difference with grim realism.  One look told me this man was different too-- yes, this man _knew_ the noodly truth. 

And I aimed to share my noodle with him. Soon.

<><><><><><><><><>Up up and Away<><><><><><><><><><><>

I watched his weather forecast with quiet fortitude, blinking once or twice. I was patient. I could wait. I studied him as he pointed at a blank screen, weather patterns in space. Standing in front of the blue screen, his eyes seemed unreal, like splashing lakes or foaming oceans or a swimming pool with way too much chlorine. 

Outside thunder rumbled and clapped as Jack pointed to the map like he had the inside scoop to the gods. "This line of thunderstorms is moving west, producing high straight-line winds and hail." And then another bang from mighty Zeus (or maybe the Flying Spaghetti Monster) shook the faux walls of Channel Six's set. 

I wanted to produce some whipping winds. Shake him up. Maybe create a torrential flood. With him.

I loved the way he moved. Loved the way he spoke. Those lips. Those long legs. Tight ass. I was in instant lust. I loved watching. Voyeur Ennis, that's me. And was that a divining rod or is he just happy to see me? Yes, nothing hotter than a gay broadcast meteorologist with a hard-on for one of his colleagues-- especially if I'm on the receiving end.

The more I watched, the more I wanted. 

After the news wrapped up, I still waited. The rest of the evening was long. I checked the doppler. The storm line looked to be dissipating. I hoped he wasn't. I checked the room-- he leaned against the director's chair, arms crossed, eyes dead on me. Yes, I'd caught him watching me. Turned me on-- more. 

When he thought all was clear, he moved swiftly to the men's room, and I followed nonchalantly, but it was like the floor of Congress in there: all these men pissing, crapping and debating about world news. Geez, you'd think we worked at a news station or something.

Finally the newsroom dwindled down, but still too much of the crew was there. Jack nodded his head to the stairs. 

He left through the door to the stairwell; a few minutes later I did too. I opened the old iron door, and it shut with a clang. His footsteps echoed above me. I followed. Another door groaned open.

He was on the roof. I got to the top and opened it to damp night air: the rain had let up. A lull. Just a drizzle. 

He stood next to one of the big dishes on the roof, hands cupping his crotch. I took the invitation. We never knew about the short-fuse warning-- never knew.

We were prone on the dish, bodies rutting together when the bolt of lightening struck.

<><><><><><><><><>Up up and Away<><><><><><><><><><><>

We woke to ozone. The smell of clean sheets, sunlight, fresh air. What little clothes we still had on during our interlude was blown from us by the bolt of lightning. Rain sliced the skies. Our bodies tingled together, nerves flashed like sparklers. It was uncanny. I could feel him-- _all of him_ , like he was inside me, and I was inside him. Our minds linked. _And there were others_. Words. So many of them all speaking, jumbled together all at once. Different languages, dialects, all inside our heads-- Jack and I were eavesdroppers on a transcontinental party line. 

But one voice above all others: Jack's voice. _In my head._

I knew we'd been hit. I expected to be roasted, expected to be dead; instead I'd never felt more alive. 

I felt pure-- or should I say, _we_ felt pure since for some reason I could sense him as part of me. I looked down into those fire-blue eyes-- yes, weren't the hottest suns blue? He was one of those suns; he'd consumed me, or maybe we'd consumed each other. 

We could hear the world speaking around us as the wind whipped around like some holy maelstrom. The wind was cold, but I wasn't: my core was hot-- or _our_ core. He was shocked like me. What was happening to us now was beyond all reason or logical comprehension. We both understood that tonight changed us. _Forever._

Seemed only moments ago I stood on 47th Street staring up at the towering transducers above-- my first thought was that I was experiencing some kind of déjà vu, but I knew what it was now. _Destiny._ That moment on the sidewalk I smelled those positive-charged ions in the air. Yes, destiny called me. And when I'd seen Jack standing in the newsroom? Hot lust. Fiery desire. _And_ an electrical connection. 

Yes, my life was over-- at least the one I once knew. He knew it too. As we haltingly pulled ourselves apart, Jack blinked. "Who... what are we now?" he asked although he knew I had no answer. As I shook my head, sparks flew.

"We can't leave like this," he said, my hands sliding down his bare chest. He was right. We were naked, wet and charged, with electrical current. 

"I suppose a hospital visit would be a wise choice--" I said.

"But who said we were ever wise?" Jack continued for me. We both smirked.

We walked to the edge of the building together. Held hands as we looked down at the parking lot below. "There's my car," I pointed.

Jack nodded. And then we jumped.

<><><><><><><><><>Up up and Away<><><><><><><><><><><>

"Ouch, that smart!" I yelled above my car alarm. I pushed the button, silenced it, then grabbed the bottom of my foot and winced. I'd left my shoes on the roof. Good thing I'd remembered the keys.

"Next time we leap from a tall building in a single bound, we gotta wear better foot support like these." Jack shook his cowboy boots in my face. "Not those beat-up Converses _you_ wear--" Hadn't noticed he wore cowboy boots until now. Only noticed his smoky eyes and that fine dick. And that rippled chest. And that nice, tight ass. Guess feet are the last thing noticed about him. He spied me inspecting him head to toe, so I tried to look nonchalant, and inspected my car instead.

_My car!_

"We fucked it up good." Jack observed as he kicked the tire. "Looks like someone dropped a cement mixer on it."

That would be a more reasonable explanation as to how my Ford Taurus got smashed. I just couldn't see writing on the insurance claim that my damage was caused by two adult males jumping from ten stories-- nope, I'm not turning that one into my adjuster-- just imagine how much my rates will increase! And maybe they'd drop my policy. Do insurance companies even cover super heroes?

I grabbed for the door handle and zap! pow! Sparks shot out of my finger tips. The car alarm went  berserk again-- and me?  I panicked too-- "Fuck, someone's goin to see us," I blurted out. We squeezed into my car fast, trying our best to hide, as much as two stark-naked males on a city street can hide in a car with a bashed-in roof.

Jack said, "One, two, three, push," and we both popped the roof up enough so that at least I won't get a crick in the neck driving to my apartment on East Lexington. My body still tingled from what happened moments earlier. I took one last look at the rooftop.

Jack did the same.

On the way home, I kept fixating on every headlight in back of me and every one of them I thought was some cop. Shit, I heard every fucking cop in the city like some scanner in my brain. Problem was, it was all one big garbled mess. What good were superhuman powers if you couldn't control them? Shit! And how would I ever explain all this to a cop? "Sorry officer, no I don't know how my car got flattened-- Clothes? Shit, I knew I was forgetting something when I left the house. Ever have one of those dreams that you're naked in public? Well..." I looked over at Jack only wearing a smile and a pair of cowboy boots and then down at myself sporting a raging hard-on-- nope, no cop would buy any story _I_ had to offer.

<><><><><><><><><>Up up and Away<><><><><><><><><><><>

We made it-- drove into the parking garage, no problem. I knew we'd be safe since the parking attendants played poker every night at this time so no one's _ever_ around. For the first time I wasn't pissed off about their nightly gambling ritual. We got into the building's lobby with no hassles-- I just hoped that Alfred, the guy who manned the building's security cameras, wasn't into blackmail. Jack didn't seem nervous. Me? I twitched like an inmate on death row. I sure as shit didn't want to run into old lady Cravitz who lived next to me in room 417. She already stared at me like I didn't have any clothes on-- no way I wanted her to have a shot at the real thing.

We stepped into the elevator. Thank god, no one was around, so I took the time to size-up Jack. He was broader through the shoulders and his hips wider, but I figured I had some clothes that would fit him. If not, it won't be a total loss-- him running around in the altogether made me-- um, what the hell? My dick pointed at him like a divining rod. 

"We can take care of that in a couple of minutes," Jack smirked at me. 

The elevator door whooshed open. There she was, old lady Cravitz with her, Audrey, her yippy toy poodle. We sprinted past them, yip, yip, yip. Last thing I saw before I slammed the door shut was her standing with the dog in her arms and her mouth hanging open like some god-damned carp.  

As fast as a comet and hotter than the sun, Jack thundered into me. I swear, I could take a pounding, but he hammered into me like Thor. He had this sudden ability to feel me up all over all at once, like he'd grown eight arms. Eight arms to hold me--eight electrical appendages, like the mighty tentacles of our lord and savior, the Flying Spaghetti Monster, only maybe not as magnificent. Well, maybe almost as magnificent. He's not a god. At least not the last time I checked.

"What the hell is going on?" Jack asked, slipping out of me. 

Then I realized, all those arms, weren't my imagination. He lit up the room up with his freaky feelers. Yes, I guess he did have tentacles of light. Not eight, like the spaghetti god, just two extra. They flicked and whipped the air around us.

"You aren't going to violate me with those, are you?" I asked hopefully. 

Because I did. I really did. 

"No," he said, "I'm not going to invade your anal cavity or wring your dick out with these ethereal, auxiliary appendages--no, I'm not."

But he did. He really did.

Alarming how precise the tip of an electric tentacle is.

<><><><><><><><><>Up up and Away<><><><><><><><><><><>

The next morning I woke up in bed with him. He looked normal--no visible signs of extra arms. I looked normal too. No third eye. 

Jack flopped over and yawned.

"Crazy night," he said.

"Yeah," I said. "I had this dream we were both struck by lightning and turned into superheroes."

"Me too," he said, sitting up.

"Maybe it really did happen," I said, examining the singed sheets under him. 

Jack nodded and eyed me seriously. 

He swept me into one of those superhero kisses only with twice as much tongue, then pulled back and eyed me seriously. 

I guess his tentacles were saved for times like when he needed to rescue derailed trains or to fuck frustrated meteorologists.

"So, I take this is going to be more than a one night stand," Jack said, shooting me a solar gigawatt smile.

"Hope so," I said, shooting him back what I hoped was smile equivalent if not greater than his. Maybe a power up with a gigavolt to the heart-- or head-- would work. I wouldn't mind starting my day fucking like a couple of radioactive rabbits. 

I tried to radiate my psychic energies to make a pass with my mind (or more than a pass if I could). His eyes widened and he shouted, "Hell, what's that?! What the fuck _is_ that?!"

"Fucking you with my head."

Jack panted and moaned while I watched. Damn, our very first brain fuck. 

I had to write this on my calendar. 

Enough of this not touching, though. I threw his legs over my shoulder and fucked with my dick _and_ my head. I had him screaming my name as his head banged into the headboard.  He was smoking without a cigarette.

This time, no retractable tentacles. 

We finished with one extra-loud whack from the other side of the wall and Jack yelling, "What's that?!" 

"Oh," I said with one last thrust, "that's Old Lady Cravitz pounding on the wall."

We collapsed to the bed, out of breath. 

After a few minutes, I got out my Zigzags, my baggie and rolled a fat one.

"So," I said, as I took a hit and passed it to him, "when do we start saving the world?"

<><><><><><><><><>Up up and Away<><><><><><><><><><><>

We soon realized that saving the world is no easy task. Superheroes are on call 24 hours with no bathroom breaks. 

Our first superhero-to-the-rescue came right after I snubbed out our cigarette.

We both heard the cries at the same time-- the hiss and choke of jet engines, the screams.

We jumped out of bed, then flew out the window like two naked avengers. Made me wonder how in the hell superheroes change into superhero-mode so fast. How do they have time? Wearing their superhero get-up under street clothes might save time, but how the hell do they do it after a good fuck?

As we zoomed through the sky, I understood why Superman wore tights-- kept his dick tucked in snug. This flapping in the wind at twice the speed of sound was a bitch.

As the jet plummeted, I scooped up one wing, and Jack scooped up the other. I prayed that we had some super strength to go with our other powers. People gawked out the window, their cell phones recording god knows what. I kept my head hidden as much as possible from the faces plastered to the windows. As a team, Jack and I lowered the twin engine jet safely to the ground below-- a perfect landing on George Washington Carver High's football field. The team practicing cleared the field, mouths open in awe. I bet it was better than kicking field goals.

My main concern wasn't the team practicing on the field-- it was the coach recording the team for posterity, and now us in all our glory.

We flew straight up, sonic booms trailing us. We zoomed straight back to my apartment and whisked in through my window.

"Next time we really need to get dressed," Jack smirked. "I think I got whiplash."

"That cock's mighty impressive."

After putting on a pair of my sweatpants, Jack walked over and turned on the TV.

"Shit," I said, looking the red letters flashing across the screen reading: SPECIAL REPORT. "We made the news."

On-the-scene reporter, Helen Flynn, stood with the jet behind her, hair whipping around her face. Next to her stood a small, balding man. I blinked. She was interviewing a priest no less. I turned up the sound.

> Flynn: _This is Father Cameron McMurphy, a passenger on board Flight 846. He witnessed the strange occurrence_ [she turns to Father McMurphy] _. I understand you had a window seat behind the wing. Tell us, Father, what you saw._
> 
> Passenger: _I still don't believe it... we were falling, falling. I was giving last rites when out of the window I saw this man-- flying!_ [crosses self] _And he was naked!_
> 
> Flynn: [turns to face camera] _For those of us who find this hard to believe, we have video captured by Washington Carver's high school football coach. This footage shows what appears to be two white males assisting the DC-9 to the ground._

I paused the footage of our descent on to the field. 

"Hey," Jack said, "they blotted out my manhood!"

"That's censorship for you." I ran the video back and forth. "Pretty blurry. At least you can't see our faces."

"Speak for yourself-- I _want_ my face on the news," he said, then looked in my eyes. "Well, you're right, maybe not like this."

I stopped the film. "Tattoo!"

" _The plane_! _The plane_!" Jack said, hopping up and down.

"Not _that_ Tattoo. _My_ tattoo." I pointed, tapping the screen. "There--"

"Well," he said, "it's not like many people will recognize you from that tattoo-- I mean, unless--" He stopped, turned to me, eyebrows raised, "--hey, just how many other people have _seen_ that tattoo?"

"Hmm. Well, we're number one in audience share, and being that this is a special broadcast, that would up the number of people. It'd say about--"

"I meant _before_ this broadcast."

"Oh," I said. "Not that many. What do you think I am, a slut?"

"No, just the milkman of human kindness."

"Ok, milkman," I said. "Well, this milkman is wondering what Mr. New Weatherman is going to do about the evening news."

"We _could_ call in sick."

<><><><><><><><><>Up up and Away<><><><><><><><><><><>

My one eye eked open, then the other-- his big orbs bored back at mine with blue heat.

Jack shook me awake, then he flattened his nose into mine. 

He had my attention. 

"Remember how your privates were once private?"  he asked. 

I blinked, then pulled on his ears to get him closer. He'd showered already, used my No Mo' Bumps aftershave. Smelled nice on him, all herbal and smooth. We rubbed our noses together like an Eskimos in heat. The conventional kiss came after. 

He sprawled out next to me; his thumb bumped slowly down my spine. Our eyes met in the mirror across the room, both of us taking a long leisurely look at our disheveled, just-fucked state. I combed my fingers through my tangled mess of curls, as and I took in Jack's Michelangelo buns. 

_Oh, god, he's flexing them._

"What time is it?" I yawned.

"About one."

I suddenly recalled his words from moments before. I frowned. "What's this about my privates?"

"It's all over the Internet," he explained. His thumb moved down my spine lower, lower, one vertebrae at a time. _Why's he doing that? It's so distracting._ "Some window-seat, amateur photojournalist captured your glorious magnificence on his cell phone." He scratched his chin, then slipped his thumb inside my tush.

" _Shit_." I squinted my eyes and looked at him. _How was I supposed to talk with his thumb up my ass?_ "Ahhh, h-how much?"

"Flying cock, bouncing balls and this beautiful lily-white ass," he said, taking his thumb out and smacking my tattooed bum. "Only a click away-- in one endless loop of entertainment for the world to see."

"Ah, damn."

"Good news is, he didn't capture your face on video-- although for those of us who know your _intimate_ parts," he winked, " _and_ trade-mark, there's no question who it is." 

"And  _you_?"

"Well, no one got my face either but--" 

"But, what?"

"Um, they did get me with a boner."

I didn't feel so bad. I barked out a laugh. "How's that possible?" I asked. "It was fucking ice-cold!"

"I guess I'll have to add to my list of extreme turn-ons: salvaging jets from imminent disaster, and..." He smiled genuinely. "...flying the friendly skies naked-- with you."

I decided right then that it was love. Real love. Like John Lennon sang about. I got all goo-goo eyed and so did he-- that's why when our cell phones began ring, ring, ringing two love-sick super heroes sat ignoring their calls. 

Ten minutes later...

We both cracked open our phones.

"Nothing important," I lied, flipping mine shut.

"Same here." He snapped his phone close just as fast. "I suppose we should get to the station," he added. "Find out what's happening."

"I suppose..."

But I wasn't ready to leave-- just yet. I wanted _more_ than a thumb-job. I gave him my most seductive look-- the one where I narrow my eyes half-mast and part my lips like Marilyn Monroe only with morning stubble and a much deeper voice. The one where I say in my most Marilyn-like way, "If you can make me laugh, you can make me do anything..." Ok, bad Marilyn Monroe impersonation. Maybe more like Marilyn Manson. Anyhow, my sensual pink-lipped promise got a rise out of Jack. 

He made me laugh.

Easy with two extra arms.

The tentacles returned, flicking and flitting and flirting. 

I laughed hysterically, hoping like hell I didn't piss the bed. Then just like that, zap-pow-wham! Surprise, surprise, he had me around my waist, in his grip like Captain Nemo in _20,000 Leagues Under the Sea--_ or maybe more like Bela Lugosi in _Bride of the Monster--_ after all this whole gay super hero thing was more like a bad Ed Wood movie than Walt Disney. His tentacles _turned_ from tickle to torment (yes, definitely not Disney material). They released my waist and found something better to hold, tight, tighter. Electric sparks flew in the air; ozone circled my nose as Jack's real fingers and his suction cups mapped out my flesh. I was all  _yes! yes! yes! yes! YES_! as he poked my pucker with the real thing (or his real big thing). In three seconds he had my shoulders pinned and my mouth covered by two of the hottest lips that god, or should I say his noodly eminence, ever created. 

Ahh, tentacle porn-- I never appreciated its subtle beauty until then: more arms to hold you. 

_Yes, I'm in love with..._

Jack _Twisted_ , super feeler.

<><><><><><><><><>Up up and Away<><><><><><><><><><><>

After our extended sexual encounter, we dressed and called a cab. My clothes fit him a bit snug, but it didn't matter since Jack never wore his own clothes on air-- they were always provided. When we got to Channel 6, the usual chaos consumed us, both of us running in opposite directions. Everyone was annoyed with me, wanting to know why I'd didn't answer my voice mails and kept asking, "Where have you been? Have you been watching the news at all?" The only one of the crew who had any idea who I was with was Cal. He'd winked at me when I'd walked in behind Jack. 

Cal wanted to know all the details, but I made a few excuses-- I don't kiss and tell. I went back to help edit some news clips, then made coffee. 

Before I knew it, the on-air light flashed--time for the six o'clock news. The lead story was a PG version of Jack and I flying the friendly skies-- but lead anchorman, James Curtain, never finished-- Jared hollered from in the control room, "Come look at this! It's on every channel!" He pointed at the transmission-- A dark haired woman stood prim and proper in front of an artificial Christmas tree, wooden desk and large world map.  "Don't know where the signal's coming from," Jared said, "but it's on everywhere, Philly, Chicago, Tokyo, London. Someone's hijacked the airways." 

It was a clean signal. All eyes were riveted on the dark eyed sultry vixen with lips as red as candy apples. She was dressed in a business suit with leather collar, boots and gloves. She picked a whip off the desk, then cracked the whip once above her head. The camera panned in closer.

Jack stepped next to me, watching the wall of monitors.

"The day has come for mankind to pay the price for his plundering the planet," she announced. "Since mankind is not able to, I shall do it for you. If the world resists, I will unleash my furry. The demands are simple." She smacked the whip handle in the palm of her hand twice for emphasis. "The plundering must halt on one continent! No more toxins will be released into the air, earth or water. Mother Earth will breath free! I will let the world leaders decide which continent will cease-- but not Antarctica--" she slashed the map behind her with her whip. "I _abhor_ the cold. The world has 24 hours to comply. At that time if my demands are not met, I will unleash Mother Nature's turmoil upon the world. In one hour from now, I will give the world a taste of the horror in store for you if mankind does not obey." She paused, then flashed an evil smile. 

"My name is Nefarious," she said with a hiss. "Be afraid."

Dead air came after, a silence, then regular programming resumed on the wall monitors: the newsroom buzzed around us with excitement and questions like: What does she mean by plundering? What havoc will she unleash? Who is she?

"She must be some kind of super-villainess," I said, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

"I don't know," Jack said. "Sounds like she might be on to something-- the planet _is_ pretty fucked up. And besides, she wears Prada." 

"I don't know, Jack," Cal said, calling over his shoulder as he walked away, "those leather accessories with that suit? Where's her fashion sense?"

"I thought she was kind of hot," I mumbled, then stumbled forward as Jack kicked my shin. I turned back to Jack. "I mean hot in an inhumane, sadistic kind of way."

"That's more like it," Jack said. 

"Sounds like we have work to do," I said.

"And one hour to do it in," Jack added.

"This is a job for, the Weathermen!"

<><><><><><><><><>Up up and Away<><><><><><><><><><><>

"One hour?" Jack said. "That gives us about a half an hour to shop, ten to change, fifteen minutes to locate Nefarious' evil lair, four minutes for witty banter, and five minutes to find, then disengage the doomsday devise."

"Wait a moment. Shop?" I asked. "Why do we need to shop?"

"Well, we can't go dressed like this! I'm not flying the friendly skies again in the altogether-- too cold-- and you know what they say about shrinkage."

"Fine," I said, setting the timer on my watch. I relinquished myself into Jack's able fashion hands. "But we've already wasted six minutes. We'll have to be quick finding her heinous hideout! Let's get shopping!"

We rushed to the elevator, out the front doors and into the chaotic streets of the city. I looked to Jack-- he seemed to know where he was going.

"Follow me," Jack said. I did, racing behind him in that great fitted suit he still had on from his weather forecast. God, he was hot. I was so busy thinking about those strong thighs that I plowed into him when he stopped short in front of me.

I stood dumbfounded, staring up at the blinking neon sign and into the gaudy storefront window. "House of Newmar? B-but this is a--"

"Dance and costume and apparel shop," Jack nodded, opening the door, then pulling me along by the arm. "I know all the drag queens shop here, too-- but get over it! This is perfect for us: it's the only shop close by with quality heavy-duty leotards. "  

I didn't ask why Jack knew about the heavy-duty leotards or the drag queen thing-- I figured there are some details better left explored later.

We dashed into the shop, and a hungry looking clerk  hovered over us the moment we sauntered in. Jack shooed her away, and she sniffed twice, then turned away a big huff. 

"We don't need her assistance," Jack said. "She has _no_ style-- that menswear for women look just isn't flattering on her body-type: she should go with something more feminine."

I looked down at my purple and white striped shirt and tight jeans. Frankly, I wondered what he thought of my fashion sense. And I was beginning to wonder about Jack: his obsession with fashion worried me. 

"I think this is your color," Jack said, grabbing a shiny black and yellow body-hugging number. He never overlooked a chance to touch me: he brushed the back of his hand over my chest and let it linger just a bit longer than necessary. "Not much protection, but I kind of like seeing those freckles on your chest, and it looks like it will hug that mighty-fine ass of yours nicely-- at least it will cover that tattoo. And I think the yellow brings out the highlights in your hair and the amber in your eyes," he said, herding me over to the full length mirror. He stood me hind me nice and snug, arm around me, holding the body suit tight to the front of me while rubbing his crotch into my ass crack from behind. The clerk gave us a disgusted frown. "What do you think?" Jack said. "You think we should get matching outfits?"

"I think I'll take it." I trusted Jack's fashion sense. That and we were running out of time. I knew Jack would love to continue shopping and gyrating against me, but we needed to get our priorities straight. "We better hurry. Saving the world comes first. Buying matching superhero apparel, second."

"Ok, ok," Jack said, shoving the outfit into my chest. "I thought maybe we could fit a quickie in the schedule. I guess we don't have enough time. I'll pick something out fast." He rushed to the racks and rifled through the garish selection while I tapped my shoes impatiently. Jack looked disdainfully down at them. "Boots! You can't wear those Bozo things! Grab some real boots, over there!" he pointed.

I got some nice black fitted leather ones, hugged my calves nicely. I got a pair for Jack, too-- hoped I guessed the right size-- his feet were big, and you know what they say about the size of men's feet? I turned around, and stopped, my mouth flapped wide open like a carp's. Jack was holding this incredible cornflower and powder blue bodysuit with matching gloves up tight to body. 

"You like it?"

I got hard just imagining him in it. 

"Sold!" I said.

We threw our clothes on the counter and paid with my American Express Card. 

<><><><><><><><><>Up up and Away<><><><><><><><><><><>

Superman has his phone booth: the Weathermen have Starbuck's bathroom. We changed there for convenience: it was nearby, private and right on a corner-- It was a drive thru with a small rear bathroom unseen to most driving by. Downside was it was same drive thru I bought coffee at for the news staff every day, so we tried to be inconspicuous and kept our heads down as we slipped in the back. Inside, the bathroom was as filthy as we were: sticky floors, sticky socks, sticky doors and sticky cocks.

We had to change fast-- hard putting on skin-tight suits when you're hard: a real challenge to fast change with a smokin-hot partner. 

The stall was cramped. I told Jack that we'd have about the same amount of room in a phone booth. Jack rubbed my codpiece and said, "But phone booths are so passé." 

I wondered how superheroes changed so fast? I decided there were two reasons, and we were it. Only one Superman, only one Spiderman, only one Ironman; there were two of us. 

Ever tried to get your freak on in 36 inch wide bathroom?

Yeah, two horny  Weathermen. Jack was _my_ problem, and I was _his_. Christ, he groped my ass, and I turned to some much melted American cheese. And of course, I just couldn't let Jack's fondling pass-- one feel deserves another. I groped his front. I couldn't stop thinking about how amazing Jack's buns of steel looked in cornflower blue spandex. I pretended to help him, when what I really was doing was feeling him up. Next thing I knew, my hands were down his super leotards, and Jack's wet spot had spread out all over his super extremities. 

I checked my watch. So far it had taken us eighteen minutes and five seconds to shop and six minutes and thirty-two seconds to change, and with the six minutes we blew talking at Channel 6, that left us less than thirty minutes to find Nefarious and foil her plan. There was a need for seed... um... I mean speed.

Jack was the one who reined us in. "Whoa! We've got to get ready. And you've got to get your super-hearing into gear-- start listening for Nefarious."

Yeah, he was right. We needed to save the world. I took my hand out of that the front of that fine blue spandex and set my super ears on auditory alert. Setting? Super-sensitive. With a bit of fine-tuning, I heard the unmistakable crack of a whip, crush of  leather thighs and cackle of a madwoman. I'd located her, and she was in the same hemisphere.

We were ready. It was Jack's turn to follow me. I felt his hot breath on my neck as I flung the door open.

 I knew it was corny saying it, but I couldn't help myself. 

"Up, up and away!" 

It didn't take long: we were either really, really fast or time just flies by when you're having fun. Either way, I pointed down.

We landed behind some large boulders on the icy tundra. 

"Shit!" Jack said. "It's cold in this damned outfit! Where the hell are we? Iceland?"

"Sh-h-h! No, Greenland."

"But there's fucking ice and snow all over! This can't be Greenland!"

"No, Iceland is green. Greenland is ice."

"Who the fuck cares! It's cold! And where's Nefarious' evil lair?"

I hate the cold, too, but no sense bitching. I got busy and looked for an opening by feeling around the rocks and ice. Jack started helping me.

"Why do you think Nefarious chose this place?" I wondered aloud. 

"Maybe it helps preserve her," Jack chuckled, then his face turned serious. "A door." We were both brushing the snow away when it opened. We stepped through, and the door echoed shut behind us. We were trapped in the dark, then suddenly, the room came alive with flashes and prisms shining from below. We crept toward the lights. The passageway opened into a large, cold room. A huge sophisticated graphic touch-screen filled the wall in front of us.

"Welcome to Nefarious Enterprises," came a deep, disembodied male voice. "Your business is important to us. Please select and touch the control panel button which corresponds to the personnel with whom you wish to interface."

"I think this is the button," Jack pointed. "It reads, 'Office of Supreme Evil.'"

"That would be it," I said. 

Jack pressed the screen. The wall hissed, then groaned as it lifted. Jack smirked. "I think we have an invitation."

<><><><><><><><><>Up up and Away<><><><><><><><><><><>

"Welcome to my evil lair." Her voice hummed, deep and rich like Lauren Becall's. She slinked over to us, tapping her whip against her long thigh. She was more exotic in person-- her hair wild flames, her eyes black coals and lips like fire. She stopped in front of Jack, nose to nose, and studied him like a sadistic schoolmarm. Then she turned to me. 

"Interesting outfits," she said, running her whip up the inside of my thigh. "But rather gay, don't you think?"

"Hey!" Jack hissed. "Hands off the merchandise!"

"I told you we shouldn't have bought the costumes at the House of Newmar," I said. 

She flicked the whip against my crotch.

I scanned the room. Nothing I could see that would deploy any heinous weapon. We had less than ten minutes left.

"Where is this so-called doomsday device?" I ventured.

"Yes, you would like to know that, wouldn't you?" she smiled slyly at me, then licked my nose. "It's safely hidden away, but tell you what--" she purred, "I might forgo destroying Shag Island if we have a friendly 'shag' between us. How about a little ménage à trois? Don't wait too long-- time's running out." 

"Never," Jack said, crossing his arms. "I'm not sharing."

"W-wait a minute, Jack," I said. "M-my Great Aunt Emma lives on Shag Island!"

"I said _no_."

"What ever happened to make love not war?" she countered. "Very well. If that's your decision, there is no sense waiting."

She pulled out her cell phone. Her long, acrylic nails caressed it.  

"An iPhone?" I said. "You're using an iPhone?"

"You didn't think I'd use a BlackBerry for such a sensitive operation?" 

Jack was quick, but not quick enough; he snatched at the phone but missed. I went after her at the same time and wrestled her to the floor. Man, she had large breasts. Jack had her in a head lock and was trying to pry the phone from her hand when two armed goons rushed in: one, a mammoth of a man, dressed all in black; the other, a willowy fellow in white.

"Get off," she yelled. "Or I will destroy Shag Island! Only I know the code for the frequency to release the Furry Ray! I have only one more number to enter and that will be the end for Great Aunt Emma."

"But we have nine minutes left!"

Their submachine guns were leveled at our heads. I reckoned that this wasn't the time to find out if we were bulletproof or not. We both released her and stepped back. 

She stood up slowly. "Yin! Yang! Take our captives to the control center so they may witness the full power of the Furry Ray!"

"What?!" I said. "You said if we released you, you won't do it!"

Jack rolled his eyes at me. "And you believed her?"

"I wasn't lying," she said to Jack. "I simply told you I wouldn't do it _then_ , but _now_ I've changed my mind. There's a price for doubting me. Yin, Yang, tie this blue-eyed hottie on top of the ray." 

Yin had Jack by the arm with the muzzle of the gun under his chin. Yang smacked me in the head with the butt of his gun.  

She slinked up to Jack and leaned into him. "It's not too late." I heard her whisper to Jack before they led us away. "I will spare your life and the lives of all on Shag Island-- one night. Me. You. And your handsome friend."

\------------------------

_Will Jack agree to a threesome? Can Ennis save his Great Aunt Emma? What's the frequency, Kenneth? Find out the answer to these and many other questions in the next installment of: The Weathermen._

<><><><><><><><><>Up up and Away<><><><><><><><><><><>

"It couldn't be that bad," I said over my shoulder, trying to convince Jack.

"Did you see her nails?!" Jack spat. "I'd rather die."

We found ourselves in a large dome. A huge tower loomed in front of us. Yang stuck behind us and Yin ascended first. We hustled along, forced to climb the cold, steel ladder high into the dome.

"Maybe she'd just like to watch," I said.

"She likes to watch _and_ participate," said Yang.

I didn't ask how he knew that. I wondered if Yin and Yang had something going on with Nefarious.

I watched for an opportunity, a way out, but none came. I looked down; we were far above now, over half way to the top. I looked at my watch: four minutes left. We had to do something. Jump? A possibility but with those guns trained on us, I didn't want to chance it. No. I had a better idea. It was telekinetic mind-meld time. I whispered a suggestion into Jack's synaptic nether regions, "Now'd be a good time to do that tentacle thing."

His mind-linked to mine. "Geez, Ennis, I can't do it on demand. I have to be--"

"Be what?" I answered telepathically. "You have to be what?"

" _Horny_."

We were near the top-- Yin was already off the ladder. Now was the perfect moment. Jack was out of my reach with my hands, but not my brain-- 

Mind fuck time!

Jack moaned. It was t _oo_ easy. Suddenly, Jack transformed, electric appendages grabbing the semi-automatics and copping a feel.

No time for that now! We had to save Great Aunt Emma and Shag Island.

I took a flying leap over Jack and onto roof. 

I heard a hum. The ray was warming up: the center was white hot, shrinking smaller and smaller, concentrating to a point. 

One minute left. 

I had no other recourse-- only thing I could think of to do.

As I threw myself on the ray, I heard Jack yell in back of me, "Nefarious! You win! I'll do it! Stop the ray!"

I don't know what'd possessed me to throw myself onto that ray. It was torture: like thousands of ants crawling and biting, but I had to do something, and at that moment, I saw no other option. And isn't that superhero rule number five? In dire circumstances, superheroes must make supreme sacrifices? I collapsed to the floor as she switched off the ray with a wicked smile, her maniacal laughter piercing through to my very core. I shook my head. Had I heard Jack clearly? Then I realized what he'd agreed to do. 

Rule number five. Supreme sacrifice.

With _her_.

And _me_.

"So glad you see it my way," she purred, circling Jack like a cat its cream. My body twitched and itched. And she--- she was _touching_ Jack, _raking_ those long, red, slutty fingernails all over _his_ chest, _his_ arms, _his_ body.

"You want to do it _h-here_?" Jack stuttered. "The f-floor is like r-rock."

"It _is_ rock," I said, getting to my feet. "Cap rock."

"And it's c-cold," Jack continued, teeth chattering. 

"Of course it's cold-- it's fucking Greenland," I said.

"Listen," Jack said to me, "you're the one who wanted to save your Great Aunt Emma! And you," he turned to Nefarious, "I know I agreed to this but couldn't we do this some place else? Some place warmer _without_ an audience?" 

Yin and Yang looked pissed. Not that I cared. 

"Very well, we'll go to my private lair where we three can get comfortable. Follow me, but remember, one wrong move, and I push the button and no more Shag Island."

Jack and I nodded, then followed Nefarious. I felt bad for my comments to Jack, but I hated the idea of sharing as much as he did. I was trying my best to connect mentally with Jack, but it wasn't working. He was cold and tired and had an odd look on his face. Something just didn't feel right to me besides the obvious-- being held captive in a glacier-laden lair and forced to have freaky-sex with an insane she-demon. 

"What about Mutt and Jeff?" Jack asked. "Can't we lose them?"

"In due time," she said, "in due time."

There on the other side of the ray was a set of doors.

"What? An elevator?!" Jack hissed, flinging his hands in the air. "There's an elevator?! Why in hell did we have to climb that ladder if there was an elevator!"

"More dramatic that way," Nefarious laughed.

We stepped inside, and the door swished shut. 

Barry Manilow sang "Can't Smile Without You" from above.

"What's with the elevator muzak?" I asked. 

"Something wrong with Manilow?!" Yin spat. 

"No," I said. "Manilow's fine... I like Manilow." 

"Got to tell you up front--" Jack said, "I'm not into women."

Nefarious rolled her eyes.

"Excuses, excuses," Yang mumbled. 

The door opened to myriads of halls-- Nefarious' dungeon-- of sorts. No dark recesses. Only ice and rocks. We followed her through corridors until we came to her room. There, Yin and Yang parted from us. We entered. Her "lair" was like her, cold and dark and filled with sharp pointy objects.

She also had a lot of pictures. All over. All of her.

We studied the walls while Nefarious fixed us drinks. I kept close to Jack, when suddenly, he stopped. His mouth opened, eyes flashed back and forth from the picture on the wall to Nefarious. 

"Your name is Lureen? Lureen Newsome?"

"Yes, Jack."

" _Shit_."

<><><><><><><><><>Up up and Away<><><><><><><><><><><>

"After Jack left me, it was then that I realized that there was _nothing_ left for me in the world. _Nothing_. Except for watching hot, man-sex."

I'd listened to her rant on long enough-- a good 22 minutes too long. All about her ill-fated high school fling with one Jack Twist, and how she was robbed of her innocence. _Some innocence_ \-- I noticed how titillated she was describing how she found Jack in the locker room with his spandex pants around his knees, his jock strap slung below his nuts and his dick down the quarterback's throat. I swear she was having multiple orgasms as she recited the story-- and I mean _recited_ \-- her horny little psyche narrated every thrust, every dribble and every tongue flick. 

"That's enough," I said. Her eyes narrowed. Jack stepped between us, which set her off all over again-- must be her post-orgasmic prolactin hadn't kicked in. She got in Jack's face, ticking off on her manicured monstrosities all the ways in which he "ruined" her life. Jack, on the other hand, was Mr. Cool: he stood, arms folded with a serene smile on his face.

"Now, Lureen," Jack said sweetly, "you know you were the only woman I was ever with. And I do care for ya."

"Friend! You said you wanted to be my friend!" she spat back. "I wasted the prime years of my life planning for our future, then--" 

"She was the only woman you've ever been with?" I interrupted. "Shit, Jack, that's enough to put any man off sex. Maybe you're not gay after all."

Not a wise thing to say. Her bullwhip cracked and bit into my left ass cheek.  She was winding up to lash a second time when Jack hollered, "Stop! You want to be pissed, be pissed at me! Leave him out of this!"

I rubbed my sore ass as I watched her lips twitch in anger. 

"Oh, but that's not the way we're going to do this," she hissed. "No, Jack. He _is_ in this!" I jumped back fast as she cracked the whip above her head. "You, your super hunk and me make three! We're _all_ the way in this-- and we're going all the way!"

She stepped up next to him, lips brushing his neck. "I can make it good for you," she whispered. "Remember my little friend?"

I had a feeling she wasn't referring to her whip. I thought about reading her mind, but there are some places even superheroes fear to go. 

"Ah hell, Lureen, you don't still have that stupid John Holmes strap-on?"

She gave a wicked nod and licked her lips as she caressed the whip's handle. Jack got nervous as hell, which made me nervous as hell. 

"Listen, Lureen, I don't think this is going to work. I mean, Ennis can't get it up for a woman no matter how big her appliance is. But if you want to watch some really hot man-sex, well, we can oblige-- he can get it up for me just fine."

I wasn't sure if I should feel insulted since I knew he was trying to get us out of this warped situation. From what I got from Jack, Nefarious had read too many Erica Jong novels and fancied herself the dark version of the heroine, Isadora Wing. Jack felt we were her new kinky, erotic attraction in her orgy of power. Last thing I wanted was to have Jack and myself part of her chosen playmates and have an 18 inch dildo up my ass. There _had_ to be a way to get that iPhone from her without setting off the ray. 

I guess getting close to her was our only option.

"Ok, Nefarious," I said. "But you should know up front-- I'm allergic to latex."

<><><><><><><><><>Up up and Away<><><><><><><><><><><>

"I don't care what you're allergic to," she spat out.

"We're queer and we're here," Jack said. "Nothing you can do to change that."

I dropped to my knees and pulled down his oh-so-tight spandex to prove his point. A very _large_ point. Jack moaned as I took him deep into my mouth. 

"That's it," Nefarious cheered. "Take that cock all the way down the back of your throat. Moan. Yes! Make that cock sing!"

Jack moaned louder and rotated his hips.

"That's it. Beg for it, Jack!"

He pulled the curls out of my hair and his breath hissed with each thrust. My cock ached as I gulped him down. I had to admit that I was kinda turned on by her instructions. I got harder and harder listening to her shout "Lick the head of that beautiful dick" and "Deep throat that cock until you gag." I'd never sucked cock with an audience cheering me on before--my own dick ached so bad I had to admit that I gave her more of a show: I rubbed my cock in time to sucking Jack. As Nefarious edged closer and closer, Jack begged more and more, egging her on and turning me on more and more.

"That's it," she said, "now let me get my little friend."

I took him out of my mouth and looked Nefarious in the eyes and said, "Nobody does him but me."

"Why you bad little boy," she said, swatting me on the ass with the handle of her whip. "I'll teach you to talk to me like that-- I'll breech that ass of yours first."

Jack groaned as she swatted me again, "Whack!" then, it happened so fast I didn't see it coming-- or him coming.

Tentacles. 

Her eyes filled with terror as Jack's extra arms caressed her form, but not without purpose. 

The iphone was his!

<><><><><><><><><>Up up and Away<><><><><><><><><><><>

Jack turned it off, then handed it to me. I had Nefarious in a headlock, and she was struggling against me in a compromising way. 

Horny bitch.

"I knew I should have used the smaller model for faster access," she said. 

"We prefer the real thing, which you don't have, honey," I chuckled. But even as we savored our victory over her, we both noticed something was wrong. I felt it, and it wasn't Nefarious. It was...

The reactor!

We both heard a loud grinding, then a high-pitched hum. "Holy, fuck!" Jack yelled.

"We only have minutes until the device overloads," she explained.

"What?!" I said. "Is this some sick James Bond flick?!"

"Yes, and you need to rescue the beautiful woman, then fuck her silly," Nefarious suggested.

"Well, I'll save you for old time's sake, but that's it. After all, you just tried to fuck me up the ass with that monstrosity."

"Girls just wanna have fun."

I decided, no way was Jack gonna rescue her. So I'm the one who lifted her up, up and away. We flew off just as the place imploded. Kind of anti-climactic. I guess I'd have to get my big climax later after we dropped off Nefarious to the authorities.

<><><><><><><><><>Up up and Away<><><><><><><><><><><>

"That's it! Right there. Fuck me, Jack Twist! Fuck me harder! _There! Yes! Harder!!!_ "

It was a great end to my week having Jack in my end. And he couldn't have come at a better time. 

But there was something missing as I looked up at the ceiling. 

"You know," I said. "I haven't heard _you_ mention those three little words."

"Fuck me harder?" 

"No!" I rolled over and looked into those deep-blue eyes and let my finger play against those perfect lips. "Those three special words two people say to each other when they deeply care for each other-- you know..."

" _I was wrong_?"

"No."

" _Coke or Pepsi_?" he kissed me, laughing. He was such a fucking tease. " _Oh_ , I get it." But he just looked at me with that smart-ass Jack Twist grin.

"Well?" I said. "I'm waiting."

" _I love you_ ," he said, kissing me again. "Now _you_ say four words."

" _I. Love. You. Too._ " I flipped him over. "Now let me hear those other three words."

Hearing Jack yell "fuck me harder" never sounded so sweet. Even superheroes need love.

The End 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I still don't know what possessed me to write this. I was half insane. If you like it, make sure you let me know. After all, global warming, earthquakes, hurricanes, and other natural disasters are a direct effect of the shrinking numbers of pirates since the 1800s. I think Sherlock should get on board this too.
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr: [**elwinglyre Tumblr**](https://elwinglyre.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
